


The City of Redemption

by iloveyoumostardently



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Shadowhunters (TV), The Green Arrow - Fandom, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - This World Inverted (Shadowhunters TV), Arrow - Freeform, Carstairs - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Herondales - Freeform, Inspired by Shadowhunters (TV), M/M, Multi, Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon, Original Team Arrow, Theroy, lovelaces, olicity - Freeform, olicityfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22517182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveyoumostardently/pseuds/iloveyoumostardently
Summary: Widower Oliver Carstairs seeks the help of Felicity Lovelace in an effort to save his son from a rogue mundane enemy with the Sight, who has a thirst for vengeance.Being the sole survivor of Helena Bertinelli, Felicity is Oliver's last chance to make sure his family will be safe. But surviving such a trauma has taken its toll upon the young Shadowhunter, and Felicity struggles to keep her inner demons at bay. Will she able to put her trauma aside whilst she helps to save a young boy from her own wretched fate? And will Oliver be the one so save Felicity from the demons in her head and her heart?An Arrow/Shadowhunters fic.
Kudos: 1





	1. Character List

A small introduction to the characters and, hopefully, a bit of clarity about who will be featured in this story. 

Star City Institute 

Robert Carstairs  
Moira Carstairs  
Oliver Carstairs  
Laurel Carstairs nee Blackthorn  
William Carstairs  
Connor Carstairs  
Thea Herondale  
Roy Herondale  
Bobbie (Roberta) Herondale 

Blackthorn Manor

Sara Blackthorn  
Quentin Blackthorn  
Dinah Blackthorn 

Idris 

John Penhallow  
Lyla Penhallow  
Sara Penhallow  
JJ Penhallow  
Joe Wayland  
Wally Wayland  
Barry (Bartholomew) Lightwood  
Iris Lightwood  
Nora Lightwood  
Ray Blackwell  
Donna Lovelace 

Madrid Institute

Ronnie (Ronald) Blackwell  
Caitlyn Blackwell  
Martin Starkweather  
Cisco (Francisco) Rosales  
Cesca (Francesca) Rosales  
Felicity Lovelace


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is Chapter 1! Enjoy :) 
> 
> AN: There are many timeline alterations and many manipulations of what this story is based from. There are similar aspects from both Arrow and Shadowhunters/The Shadowhunter Chronicles, but the story itself is an original.

Oliver- Star City

Voicemail 1: 31/01/2006  
“So, your mom is trying to make me buy this awful yellow sweater, can you like, I don’t know, call her and tell her you need her for something. She’s coming. Help me. Love you, see you later!”

Voicemail 2: 2/3/2008  
“Hey, it’s me. Again. I can’t find Will’s toy dragon and he won’t stop crying. Have you seen it?. Also, if you’re patrolling by the store I could really use some pickles! Love you, bye!”

Voicemail 3: 14/08/2011  
“Ollie? I don’t know why I called. I guess I hoped… I don’t know. Ollie, if you’re there, please, please help me. I love you. She- she’s coming. Please protect our boys. She’s going to kill me, please I-,” (dial tone)

8 years. It had been 8 years and the broken sound of her voice pleading with him to save her still made the hairs on his body stand on end and his throat close up, no matter how often he listened to the voicemail. Oliver Carstairs closed the old Alcatel phone he kept with her voicemails and returned it to his pocket. He drained the last of his whiskey and placed a bill on the bar. He came here every year on the anniversary of her death. At first it was a comfort to him; he could see them in the different booths and barstools as they came on their rare date nights out. Perhaps it was the extra whiskeys he’d drank this year, but he could have sworn he saw her sitting at the end of the bar, her dark blond hair tied in a high ponytail and wearing a smile that devastated him daily. Laurel Blackthorn. His wife, and mother of his two sons. And murdered by a mundane with the Sight.  
The late chill of the August air bit into his skin and his breath was stark against the black sky. Oliver’s head swam with the effects of the alcohol. He dug his hands further in to his coat pocket and savoured the warmth of the small space. The walk from Hunters’ Moon to the Institute was a short one but on this particular night, Oliver took a detour. He often walked the streets of Star City, patrolling and scouting for danger, but tonight he had other things on his mind.  
The docks were quiet, but not eerily so. Everyone knew that this was Czechnykov territory, Shadowhunters, Mundanes and Downworlders alike. The Czechnykov’s were a mundane mob family who ran the underground distribution of Vertigo in Star City. Oliver and Laurel had investigated the leak of Vertigo into Downworld when they were just turned 19, and had almost been killed trying to expose a clan of vampires feeding off captive mundanes with Vertigo in their system. Oliver smiled briefly at the memory, but it was short lived as he reached his destination. Despite the darkness, Oliver could still see the exact spot in which they had found her body. He hadn’t seen it. No, the day he discovered that his wife had died was the day of her funeral and the day in which he returned from his own voyage through hell. Already shouldering the burdens he’d collected over the years, Oliver’s only worry as he stepped off the boat on to Star City harbour that day was how he was going to tell his mother that his father, Robert Carstairs, had not survived their journey. He had prepared for an overwhelming reunion, full of too many faces and too much noise. Instead, he found an empty Institute and was dealt a blow so painful he was sure his heart had shattered in his chest. The wind picked up and the dank smell of the water rose to his nose, overwhelming his senses. Oliver chastised himself, as he had the year before, and the year before that, for coming to this place. He knew that this would bring him no closure, as nothing else had. But as he stared at the spot on the wooden slats, he drew a guttural breath. Guilt. If he hadn’t been so damned selfish, if he had just stayed put like she had asked. Sensing the wave of darkness spreading over his thoughts, Oliver snapped himself out of it. Two faces came swimming in to view in his mind and he felt a weight lifting from his chest. With a final sigh, Oliver turned from the docks and began walking back to the Institute, burying his chin deep into his coat to hide the tears that stained his cheeks. 

The Star City Institute was beautiful. It was grand in a way that only ancient buildings can be, with ancient stone walls, spires, and a gothic interior. Wanting to avoid detection, Oliver slipped around the side and entered through the Sanctuary. The 3 flights of stairs were rather tedious, and the 3 floors were a nightmare to navigate, but he knew that if he had gone through the front door, his mother and sister would be in the drawing room waiting to greet him with smiles full of sorrow and pity that he really didn’t need right now. Reaching the halls of the main building, Oliver headed straight towards the west wing, where his sons slept. He wasn’t surprised to find them sat together in Will’s room. Especially today. The two boys would fight like cat and dog every other day of the year apart from this one. They couldn’t find solace in their father, who was no stranger to loss but still struggled to deal with it; so, they drew each other close instead. Connor, Oliver’s youngest, lay on the bed, half asleep while Will, his eldest, sat at his desk reading through the Shadowhunter Codex for study.  
“Hey.” Oliver said from the doorway, knocking lightly. Connor sat up.  
“You’re late.” The eleven-year-old chastised, smiling warmly at his father. Oliver’s heart fluttered as he glimpsed Laurel in their son. They had the same smile, the same eyes and the same light outlook of life despite the world that they lived in.  
“I know, bud. I’m sorry.” Oliver walked further into the room and took a seat on the bed. Will turned around in his chair and fiddled with the pen in his hands.  
“Where were you?” He asked quietly.  
Oliver contemplated lying to him. He thought about telling him that he just stayed for a few extra drinks, that he had bumped into a friend. But he wouldn’t. Because it didn’t change anything. And they had a right to know everything. For too long, he had been the guy that was dishonest, a child and a damned fool for leaving his family. He didn’t want to lose them. There were many things that these boys didn’t need to know, things that should never be spoken of, but he was their father. And their mother was dead. And today of all days, they could share in their grief. Oliver cleared his throat and shuffled on the bed so that his back was against the wall.  
“I went to the docks. I thought- well I thought that I-, I don’t know what I thought,” he sighed, closing his eyes. Connor moved from where he sat and buried his face in his father’s jacket. Oliver squeezed his arm in thanks, hoping that the warmth of the little one next to him would seep into his bones.  
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain,” Will said. The bed dipped as his eldest sat beside him. Oliver looked into his eyes, and felt the tears threaten to fall again. “I miss her too, dad.” Will’s voice was thick with emotion as he dipped his head and stared at his hands. Oliver took one of them in his and squeezed it.  
“She’d be so proud of the pair of you, you know that?” he whispered to them.  
“Can you tell us another story about her?” Connor asked.  
“Of course,” Oliver kissed him on the head. His heart broke for the little one who had only a small period of time to know her. It killed him that he would never be able to tell them everything about her because no matter how much time had passed, the pain never went away. And to talk about her in the past tense made him feel physically sick.  
But today, of all days, he could share one of their happier stories. So, Oliver told them about the time that he and Laurel had travelled, unauthorised and unaccompanied at 14, to the Arctic because Laurel didn’t believe that Snow Leopards existed. The boys howled with laughter as Oliver animatedly told them about how Robert Carstairs had almost burst a blood vessel upon finding out that Laurel had accidentally swapped his shampoo out for hair removal cream, believing it to be Oliver’s ensuite bathroom. It was creeping into the early hours of the morning when the boys eventually passed out, and Oliver didn’t have the heart to wake them both. He shuffled out from between them and moved them as lightly as he could into a more comfortable position. Spreading a blanket over the pair of them, he wondered about the kind of relationship they would have had, had Oliver not returned. But he brushed the thoughts away, because he would never leave them. Not again. And he’d claw his way back from Hell itself to be with them. 

Felicity - Barcelona

Felicity Lovelace gazed at the glittering water as the moon cast iridescent light over the Mediterranean. The smell of sea salt stung her nostrils, but the familiarity of it warmed her. And she was so glad that it had at last become familiar to her. She had spent such a long time trying to escape the demons of her past, and the pain that seemed to become a part of her, that she rarely took a moment to just breathe in the air of Barcelona. A light breeze floated towards her as she stood on the beach, creating soft ripples in the glowing water. Felicity shivered lightly, drawing her coat further around her, unable to escape the constant feeling of the cold even in the summer air. Inhaling the salty air one more time, and thanking Raziel that she could no longer remember the horrid smell of the Star City dock, Felicity waded towards the pavement.  
The streets were busy, even this late in the evening, and Felicity found immense comfort in that. There was always a pedestrian, or forty, on the street at any given time, always a restaurant that was open until the early hours of the morning, and always the sound of laughter and music. Felicity took the long way back to the institute, enjoying the night’s reprieve and keeping her thoughts light, or as light as she could keep them given her circumstances.  
To the city of Barcelona, the Institute looked like a desecrated church, but to every member of the Downworld, and to the Nephilim, the Barcelona Institute was a thing of magnificence. Sure, it looked like a church, but the intricate detail of the runes that decorated the spires and the dedications to past Nephilim that lay inscribed on the columns and the beautiful tiled steps- it almost took Felicity’s breath away every time.  
She was thankful that there didn’t seem to be anyone awake, which meant that she could head to the armoury and train herself into exhaustion for a few hours. Felicity crept through the halls, keeping her steps light.  
And then, “What are you doing?”  
Felicity yelped, covering her mouth quickly to dampen the sound. She turned to find Cisco Rosales looking at her quizzically whilst cradling his one-year-old daughter, Francesca, against his chest.  
“Jeez, Cisco, some warning next time, maybe?” Felicity whispered angrily.  
“You’re the one getting around like creeping Jesus,” Cisco chuckled, careful not to wake his daughter. “If I gave warning, I’d be a lousy Shadowhunter.”  
Felicity smiled, and then gestured to Francesca, “Night feed?”  
Cisco gazed at the sleeping child, and stroked her head lightly, “Yeah, she’s been asleep for a little while now, I just can’t seem to put her down,” he paused, “I feel like she’s growing so fast and I’m missing everything, you know?”  
Felicity smiled at her friend. Francisco, Cisco, Rosales had been the first friend she’d made here when Curtis Holt had dropped her off here, 4 years ago. Felicity wanted to be left alone, to wallow in her grief, in her hatred and self-pity- but Cisco was persistent in his endeavour to not let her waste away and die. He’d started off by bringing her food, and then sitting on the other side of her bedroom door to wait until she’d polished off every last bit of it, which didn’t happen for a few months, but it happened. When Felicity awoke screaming in the night, Cisco would sometimes sit with her until she fell asleep, telling her stories about his girlfriend, who would become his wife, and then the mother of his child. Cisco’s consistency allowed her to open up and begin trusting people again.  
Felicity watched her friend for another moment, before averting her eyes and clearing her throat softly. “I’m going to head to bed. I’ll see you at breakfast.” She waved, and then turned and walked away, thankful that Cisco was too wrapped up to ask why she was heading in the direction of the armoury, and not in the opposite direction to her room.  
The vibrations of metal hitting metal ran up Felicity’s arms and made her teeth sing. She had been battling her opponent in the simulation for well over two hours now and her bones were weary. She was close to a burnout, and she craved it. Felicity kicked her leg out and knocked the faceless opponent’s feet from beneath them. She didn’t hesitate to drive her seraph blade into its chest. Once she had, she peeled the electrodes from her chest and removed the VR helmet. Felicity took a moment to adjust to reality, and then returned her seraph blade to its home on the rack. Plucking her towel from the floor and wiping it across her head and neck, she creeped out into the hallway and made her way back to her rooms.  
The shower was deliciously piping, just the way she liked it- and when she got out, she relished those five minutes where she felt thoroughly warm, until the cold seeped back in and she had to put on two layers of clothes for bed. As she dropped her towel, Felicity caught sight of her scars in the mirror. She tried hard to ignore them. After all, if she didn’t look at them, they weren’t there, and none of that horrid business had ever happened… But that was evasive thinking, and Curtis Holt always said that “if you keep pretending like it didn’t happen, Felicity, it will consume you.” Felicity rolled her eyes just thinking about it. But then she felt a familiar wave of longing spread through her. Despite being the High Warlock of Star City, a place that was forever tainted for her, Felicity missed Curtis. Hearing his words echoing through her mind, Felicity stroked a finger over a mottled scar on her wrist. Despite the time that had passed and knowing that Helena could not reach her, Felicity stared at her scar and knew that her business with Helena Bertinelli was far from over. She picked up her stele from the bedside cabinet and traced the silencing rune on her wrist. Felicity had done this so many times over the years that she barely felt the burn anymore. She sank beneath the covers and was grateful that when her head hit the pillow, she sank into oblivion.


	3. Chapter Two

Oliver 

In hindsight, Oliver probably should have known better than to expect life to give him anything other than lemons. But the week after Laurel’s anniversary, Oliver woke up feeling okay. And because it was so rare, Oliver allowed himself the small leniency of wanting to enjoy the day. Saturday’s, anyway, were Oliver’s favourite days. Partially, because he was able to stay in bed for an extra hour, but more so that he got to spend the day with his sons. The kitchen was abuzz with chatter when Oliver entered. His mother, Moira Carstairs, was chastising Connor lightly for spilling his juice on the ornate wooden table and Will was texting silently, somehow simultaneously managing to shovel cereal into his mouth in small intervals. He was always texting, these days.  
“Morning, Mom,” Oliver pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek before pouring himself a cup of coffee.  
“Good morning, darling. I have a meeting with Inquisitor Penhallow in half an hour, I don’t suppose you’d like to join me? Lyla has always favoured you over me.” Moira said lightly, rinsing her mug in the sink.  
“That’s because her husband is my best friend, mom,” Oliver chuckled lightly. “I’m afraid I can’t anyway- the boys and I are going out.”  
“Ah yes, I forgot. Leave your boots at the door this time, mister,” his mother glared daggers at Will, who smiled apologetically at his grandmother. For the past few weeks, Oliver had been taking the boys into the city to grant them a sense of familiarity with their surroundings. Last week he had taken them to the park to play soccer, and Will had traipsed mud right the way through the house, giving their housekeeper, Raisa, a tough task in scrubbing all of it out of the carpets.  
“Yes, ma’am,” Will saluted his grandmother, who tutted and then chuckled at him before planting a kiss on his and Connor’s head, and leaving the kitchen with a wave and a goodbye. Oliver took a seat at the table and drank his coffee.  
“Why do we go out every weekend, Dad?”  
“It’s important to know where we live, Connor. Why? Aren’t you enjoying it?”  
“I am, I just don’t really get it.”  
“We need to know the city as well as we can in case anything happens, right dad?” Will supplied, placing his phone next to him and involving himself in the conversation.  
“Right. And when Will graduates the Academy next year, he’ll come back here and take up a position in protecting the people of this city,” Oliver’s gaze settled on Will, who had turned serious and gave his father a committed and proud nod. Oliver’s chest filled with pride. “As will you when it’s your turn, Connor.”  
“Is it because of what happened to that Lovelace girl, too?” Connor asked absentmindedly.  
Oliver froze. “How’d you know about that, bud?” He leaned forward on his elbows and looked at his youngest, his tone growing serious.  
“I heard Will and JJ talking about it.”  
“You’re eavesdropping on my phone calls now? You’re such a worm, Connor!” Will burst out. He thrust his hand out to punch his brother on the arm, but Oliver intercepted it.  
“Hey! None of that, please. It’s not even 10am.” Oliver growled. Will sank back into his chair with a sulk. Connor resumed swirling the remaining pieces of cereal around his bowl.  
“You’re not even going to tell him off?” Will accused. Oliver held up a hand to silence him.  
“Connor, you know that Will likes his privacy. You can’t keep listening in on conversations.”  
“Why? You did it all the time when you were my age.” Connor shot back. Oliver bristled because Connor was absolutely right. Oliver had eavesdropped on conversations, among other things that twelve-year olds were definitely not supposed to be doing. A familiar feeling of failure settled onto Oliver’s shoulders as, not the first time in all of the years that she’d been gone, did he wish that Laurel was here. Oliver let out a small sigh before calming himself.  
“You are both supposed to be better than I was. Connor, please respect that William doesn’t always want to share things. He’s your brother and it’s an invasion of his privacy. You wouldn’t like it if he did it to you.” Connor opened his mouth to protest, but, seeing the weary look upon his father’s face, decided otherwise. Oliver turned to Will. “You shouldn’t be gossiping about things like that. What happened to that poor woman under this city’s protection was horrifying. Don’t let me catch you talking about it again.” The boys sat in silence for a minute before Connor quietly apologised to Will, and Will apologised to Connor. When Oliver looked up at them, they were grinning lopsidedly at each other, and the tightness in Oliver’s chest loosened.  
An hour later, the Carstairs’ boys and their father walked the streets of Star City, glamoured yet without armour or weapons. Oliver let out a small smile as the sun beat down against his skin. The quarrel at breakfast had been resolved and Oliver was looking forward to having a nice day. They had lunch from a burrito cart, which Connor loved, and Will hated. Oliver marvelled at their differences, yet it warmed his heart as he watched Will give Connor his burrito. When they stopped beside a bagel van, Connor bought his elder brother two as a replacement.  
The park was practically brimming, which didn’t surprise Oliver one bit given the scorching summer weather. When they had managed to secure a patch of grass, Connor and Will began passing the soccer ball between them amiably. Oliver settled back on his hands as he looked on. Habit, and a deep-rooted parental fear, had him assessing their surroundings. After the island, and after Laurel, Oliver’s protective instincts were heightened, and he was always on edge. He observed a nearby family and saw the father laid back on a picnic blanket whilst his wife and children played tag not too far away. Oliver wondered about what that might be like- to settle back fully and lie in the grass, to soak up the sun and drift away into a peaceful sleep and not have to worry about the things that lurked in the pond, or in the trees. But although he was allowed to play pretend for one day a week, Oliver wasn’t a mundane and he was not afforded the same pleasantries and safeties that they were. Oliver was a Shadowhunter, and it was a great honour.  
The afternoon was pleasant, and Oliver was reminded of simpler times, mainly of his own childhood. Growing up in Idris before his father assumed his position as Head of the Star City Institute was like a faraway dream. Oliver remembered frequent trips to Alicante with his father when they shopped for weapons, seeing the Gard, and sneaking into the Accords Hall with his childhood best friend Tommy Morgenstern. They were caught, of course they were, two awestruck thirteen-year old kids stuck out like a sore thumb in a room full of placid looking adults. They were both grounded for two weeks but it had been immensely worth it. Crushing nostalgia washed through him as he gazed at his children and remembered Tommy and realised, painfully, that it would be approaching a decade since Tommy’s own passing. Alicante’s wards had been breached by a rogue pack of wolves who were enraged at the incarceration of their alpha. Sufficed to say, one man could not have survived it.  
“Dad, I have to pee.” Connor announced. Oliver chuckled at the honesty, blinking the moisture in his eyes away and shaking his head lightly.  
“Okay, you need me to come with you?” He made to sit up.  
“I’ll go with him. He can help me carry the ice cream on the way back.” Will said, resting his hand on Connor’s shoulder. Oliver sank back into the grass.  
“Do not tell grandma about the ice cream. She’ll have my head on a stick. As will Bobbie if she finds out.” Oliver said lightly, pointing a finger each at his sons. Connor did a mock salute, and Will mimed zipping his lips shut. Oliver watched them walk away for a few minutes, play fighting softly as they strode over the grass towards the stone toilet cubicles. The shrill of his phone ringing in his pocket interrupted Oliver and he tore his eyes away from William and Connor.  
“Hey, Thea,” he said pleasantly.  
“Ollie, where are you?” His sister’s shaken tone set the hairs on his body standing.  
“We’re at the park, why?”  
“Where are the boys? Are they with you?” Came her frantic reply.  
“Yes, of course- Will just took Connor to the bathroom.” Oliver was on his feet now, tension rippling from his shoulders as he searched the crowd of faces for that of his sons.  
“Oliver, do you have eyes on them?”  
“No-,” Sweat was rolling down Oliver’s back. He began striding towards the toilets. His heart began pounding. “Thea, tell me what’s happening. Right now.”  
His sister let out a sigh of frustration and began talking to someone in the background.  
“We just received a text file from an unknown number, it came up in the briefing room. It’s a photograph, of Connor and Will with the caption ‘I’m collecting what I am owed. He will suffice as due payment. Carstairs blood was always the richest.’ Signed by someone named ‘Helena’?”  
Oliver’s stomach bottomed out and he began flat out running. Helena? Who on earth was Helena? Due payment? What? He roared his sons names. He put the phone back to his ear as he stopped and began circling outside of the stone building of the toilets. There were too many faces, too many… Oliver’s heart was thudding erratically. “Thea-,” he began, but a cry tore his attention from his phone, and Oliver whirled around to see Will slump to the ground to his right. Oliver let out a shuddered cry and darted towards him. He fell beside his son, but only for a fraction of a second, for Oliver saw a hooded figure carrying an unconscious Connor over his shoulder towards a black SUV parked on the main road up ahead. If the culprit managed to get Connor into that car, Oliver would surely lose him. With a pained look at Will, who was trying to sit up, Oliver darted after Connor.  
Immediately, Shadowhunter training took over. As a boy, Oliver had demonstrated an apt ability in combat. He had made top of his class in almost every manner of training, and that was when he was in a controlled environment. He was formidable when he was angry. And he was angry at this very moment. His limbs were on fire, his heart beating wildly, as he sprinted for the culprit, who had now noticed Oliver racing towards him. The figure tried to speed up, but it was clear that Connor’s weight was dragging him down. Oliver reached for the hood of the figure and held on tightly, wrenching it towards him. Connor fell to the grass with a sickening thud that had Oliver wincing. But there was no time to waste. The tyres of the SUV screeched something unholy as it careered down the street and out of sight. But Oliver wasn’t focused on the SUV. His rage rippled from him in waves as he pummelled his fists into the figure’s back and abdomen. Oliver ripped the hood down to reveal a middle-aged man, who wasn’t really a man, but a pixie- who grinned at Oliver with blood coating his teeth. Oliver drove his fist into the pixie’s face and let him fall to the ground on his knees.  
“Who are you?!” Oliver roared, gripping him by the neck and shaking him. Around them, mundanes continued about their business, unaware of the scene taking place right in front of them.  
“Connor? Connor, can you hear me?” Oliver turned briefly to see William knelt by Connor’s side and checking his body for any injuries. Oliver made eye contact with his eldest and saw the terror in his eyes, and a cut on his forehead that was bleeding somewhat ferociously. A fresh wave of rage washed over Oliver and he wrenched the stranger to his feet.  
“Who sent you? What do you want with my son?”  
The pixie grinned once more, and pulled a knife from his pocket with tremendous speed. But Oliver was quicker. He twisted the pixie’s wrist and pulled- hard. The would-be abductor screeched as the knife dropped to the ground, and Oliver kicked it away. Oliver wanted to kill him. Wanted to leech him dry, but the question of why Connor had almost been taken still remained. And Oliver still needed to know who the hell ‘Helena’ was. The stranger shrieked with pain and began crying, his tears mixing with the blood pouring out of his face. In on fluid motion, Oliver held the man in a strong hold, his bicep cutting off the air to his windpipe. In seconds, the culprit was unconscious, a dead weight in his arms.  
When Oliver looked at Will, he saw that his eyes gleamed with even more terror. “He’s not dead,” Oliver said softly, dropping the pixie in a heap, and kneeling beside William to inspect the cut on his head. He saw the tension in Will’s shoulders ease. Oliver then turned to Connor, who was not injured aside from a small lump protruding from his forehead. He was breathing, thank the angel. With a sigh, Oliver sank back on his heels, his mind whirring. And to think he wasn’t going to bother with glamour’s today. 

Two hours later, Oliver watched on through a two-way mirror as his mother led an interrogation in one of the cells located in the underbelly of the Sanctuary. To his credit, the pixie remained silent, answering none of his mother’s questions and staring at the wall. However, Oliver could see the tension in the prisoner’s forearms as he tried to pull against his bindings discreetly. After another moment, his mother sighed and left the room. Oliver didn’t take his eyes from the prisoner.  
After Oliver had taken both of his sons to the infirmary and applied their respective iratzes- he had left them with his younger sister, Thea, and her young daughter in the library. Oliver had then marched into the holding cell to have it out with the creature who had tried to take Connor. Oliver had pressed his middle and forefinger to a particular spot on the pixie’s throat, and he had sprung to life. Oliver was prepared to beat any information out of him, and would have done, if his brother in law, Roy, had not arrived announcing that Moira was on her way down. The worried look that Roy bestowed upon him didn’t go unnoticed.  
Even now, hours after it had happened, Oliver’s fists clenched and unclenched, thirsty for the pixie’s blood. The sound of the door opening beside him snapped him out of his violent thoughts. Moira appeared; her face tight with stress. “He won’t say a word: not about who he’s working for, if he’s working for someone else, how he knew where to find Connor, why he tried to take him,” his mother let out a sigh, and then dragged a hand through her short, shoulder length hair. “I’ll come back in an hour, don’t even think about going in there.” Moira said sternly. And with one last look at the prisoner through two-way glass, she left the room. Oliver clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding against each other with unforgiving malice.  
Oliver had every intention of heeding his mother’s instructions. She was the Head of the Star City Institute, she was in charge, and she could definitely have him reprimanded for insubordination. But this creature sitting silently on the other side of the glass hadn’t made one of her children bleed, hadn’t attempted to do away with the other one. So, the next time Oliver was able to gather his thoughts, his fist was barrelling towards the pixie’s face. The force of the blow had skin splitting in an instant. The prisoner spat blood and, once again, struggled against his bindings. Oliver knelt in front of him, gripping his face with one hand and forcing the despicable creature to look at him.  
“Tell me why you came after my son.” Oliver’s words came out as cold as steel and as sharp as blade. He would have liked to say that he didn’t recognise his own voice, but he did. Because this side of him still existed. Being home didn’t change what had happened to him on the Island; he wasn’t magically restored when he stepped off the boat in the docks- no, something lurked beneath Oliver’s skin. Something dark. But whatever it was, it loved his boys. And if Oliver ever knew anything, it was that he would do anything to protect his boys.  
The pixie looked into Oliver’s eyes with a sliver of fear.  
“Tell me why you came after my son,” Oliver repeated, releasing his hold on the Downworlder’s face and gripping him by the throat. “I’m not asking.”  
“Because I was paid to.” The green skinned man struggled. Oliver squeezed. Blood leaked onto Oliver’s arm.  
“By who? What for? Who is Helena?”  
The pixie’s eyes were practically bulging from his head when Roy Herondale burst into the room and wrenched Oliver away.  
“What are you doing!?” His brother in law roared, pushing him out of the interrogation room and into the observation room.  
“He was giving me information! Let me back in there!” Oliver pushed against Roy.  
“Are you insane? By the Angel, Oliver, you know the penalties for harming Downworld prisoners!” Roy had gripped both of Oliver’s forearms and was holding on for dear life.  
“Take your hands off me.”  
“Are you going to behave?” Roy asked venomously.  
Oliver growled at him and Roy released his hold. “You might be my sister’s husband, and my niece’s father, but make no mistake- you put your hands on me outside of a sparring ring, and I won’t restrain myself.”  
Oliver swung open the door and stalked into the hallway. But instead of heading back into the interrogation room, where he was convinced he might just kill the damn pixie, Oliver stalked upstairs towards the courtyard of the Sanctuary. The late afternoon sky was a beautiful melancholic yellow. The warmth of the sun settled into his bones and calm flooded through him. The darkness curled back into itself inside him. But the anger would not dissipate, and try as he might, Oliver could not stop hearing William’s scream from earlier. It rang in his ears like a bell; noisy and relentless. The sight of Connor on the ground, unconscious, was seared into his brain. Oliver had to brace himself against one of the stone pillars and take some deep breaths. He wasn’t entirely certain what on earth he was going to do. Questions flew around his mind, fear crawled from his chest into his limbs and dread coiled in his stomach.  
“Hey.” A small voice pulled him out of his trance. Looking over his shoulder, Oliver saw that it was Thea. She gave him a small, reassuring smile, and came to stand beside him.  
“Hey. You find anything?”  
“I think so. You should come and see.” His sister tugged on his bicep and pulled him towards the door leading into the Institute. Thea kept her hand on Oliver’s arm and gave it a comforting squeeze. He immediately felt calmer. He watched her small frame amble up the many stone steps and reminded himself how very lucky he was to have her. Even if she did happen to be married to a hot head that he clashed with all of the time. 

When they arrived in the briefing room, Oliver was dismayed to find that Ray Blackwell was standing in the corner with a tablet and looking at it sceptically. Oliver turned to Thea and rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that Oliver didn’t like Ray Blackworm- Blackwell, it was simply that he was just… too… much of everything. He was a part time lecturer at the Academy in Idris and was completing a summer tenancy at the Institute to finish his thesis on nanotechnology and its relevance to a modern blah blah blah. Oliver was rather fortunate that he didn’t have to see him most of the time, but holding a conversation with him was so intellectually exhausting, Oliver had to drink three cups of coffee to resume concentration.  
“He’s helping.” Thea whispered, and then inclined her head towards the large circular table in the middle of the room that was scattered with multiple technological devices and pieces of paper. Thea picked up a document and held it out to him. “This is the photograph that this ‘Helena’ sent to us. Ray and I looked at the angle and found that it was most likely taken from here,” His sister pulled a tablet from under a pile of papers and showed him a lit screen with a map. On the map there were multiple different locations that were marked. “Roy checked it out after I picked you up from the park and he found this,” Thea put down the tablet and picked up an evidence bag that held a tattered map.  
Oliver took the evidence bag and examined it. “What is it?”  
“It’s a map of Star City. There are two locations marked on it.” Ray said, approaching where the siblings stood. pulled on a pair of gloves. “Look,” he said, holding the map out in front of him and indicating the two separate locations. “This first one is that night club in the Glades, Verdant. And this one, here, is the old subway.”  
Oliver’s brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of it. “Those locations mean absolutely nothing to me. We need to know who this ‘Helena’ is.” Oliver was sick of saying her name. He felt like no one was hearing him.  
“Yes. We are on that too. I put in a request to the Enclave to access any records and data with the keyword ‘Helena’ and we should be getting a few hits back soon. It’s processing now.”  
“What else did Roy find?” Oliver’s eyes trailed over the endless pieces of paper scattered over the table that essentially told him absolutely nothing.  
“I, uh, I don’t know.” His sister said quietly, thumbing the edge of the piece of paper she was holding.  
Oliver frowned and tried to catch his sister’s eye, but she was distant. He looked to Ray, who was also watching his sister carefully. Ray cleared his throat and said to Oliver, “He said someone had definitely been there, perhaps nesting, for a while. I managed to track down the SUV- it was left, abandoned and cleared out in an alley at the other side of the glades.”  
“Give me the location. I want to check it out myself.” Oliver nodded solemnly.  
“No need. I already did,” All three heads turned towards the door where Sara Blackthorn, Laurel’s younger sister, now stood, beaming at them with her signature grin. “It’s okay everyone, don’t all greet me at once.”  
Oliver approached her and wrapped her in a warm embrace. “What are you doing here?” Oliver murmured into her hair.  
“Thea called me. So, what do we have? Who’s after my nephew?”  
Thea relayed the same information to Sara that she had to Oliver. But every face in the room was shocked to see that by the end of it, Sara was ghostly pale.  
“Have those files come through from the archives?” Sara asked absently.  
Thea picked up her tablet and handed it to Ray.  
“Uh,” Ray tapped the screen, “yeah. I’ll start going through them now. Thea?” Both Thea and Ray went to move from their current positions, but Sara’s voice cut through the room.  
“Wait,” The worry in Sara’s voice had everyone on edge. Especially when she was literally all smiles not fifteen minutes ago. “Pull up Felicity Lovelace’s file.” Oliver didn’t recognise the look on her face.  
Ray did as Sara asked and looked at her expectantly.  
“Thea, the map that Roy found?” Sara asked. Thea handed it right to her. Sara opened it up and Oliver heard the shudder in her intake of breath.  
“Sara, what is it?” Worry laced Oliver’s voice and he didn’t even try to hide it, Ray Blackworm be damned.  
“Ray, read out the location in which Felicity Lovelace was abducted, and where she was found.”  
A moment later, Ray read aloud, “Verdant nightclub-,” and then he broke off. His eyes were full of horror.  
“And?” Sara’s eyes were now closed, distress stark on her face.  
“The old subway.” Ray finished. All four pairs of eyes met each other, three trying to figure out the connection and one quickly clouding over with something the others couldn’t place.  
“What does Felicity Lovelace have to do with any of this?” Thea inquired.  
“If I’m right, and by the angel I hope I’m not, the person we’re dealing with is Helena Bertinelli,” Sara said, a tremor to her voice. “And if it really is Helena, we’re in serious trouble.” Sara swallowed hard and met Oliver’s gaze. The terror in her eyes unnerved him, and all of the hairs on his body stood on end.


End file.
